


Our Day

by Redpine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/M, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sexual Fantasy, Sibling Incest, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 23:23:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3506564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redpine/pseuds/Redpine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Is that what you were day dreaming about?” she murmurs, brushing her lips along his jaw. “Going to see him?”</p><p>Sam doesn’t say anything. His eyes close. The guilt takes on a different colour and Jess knows she’s hit the mark.</p><p>“It is, isn’t it?” she murmurs. “You were imagining what you’d do for him for his birthday, huh?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Day

The window in their bedroom faces the rising sun, and Sam can never stare right into it, only just left, into the clouds. Jess finds him that way most mornings, rolled on his side and staring. Maybe worried about his midterm. Maybe just enjoying the nice morning, Maybe just looking that far away look that Jess never understands but knows enough not to ask about. She jokes about the possibility of Sam wearing sunglasses to bed, and it usually breaks him out of it. He rolls towards her, touches his cheek with his big hand, kisses her good morning, and those far away looks are forgotten. Sam comes back home.

She grins as she rolls up behind him that morning, drapes her arm across his waist, kisses the back of his neck. “How’s the world out there today, space cadet?” she teases.

Sam smiles and turns around in her hold, faces her. He kisses her but Jess is surprised to see that Sam’s distant expression still lingers, like half his thoughts still lie somewhere else. “It’s good,” Sam says, in his usual friendly way. “Happy Birthday.”

Jess runs a hand through his hair. Wants to ask, wants to know what’s wrong so she can fix it. She loves him so much, and sometimes she pushes him to tell her what it is that he thinks about, what it is that he’s missing. Except it never ends well, and Jess doesn’t want to fight on her birthday. So she grins and kisses him, hoping he’ll snap out of it once he gets up and starts his day. “I gotta get ready for breakfast with my mom,” she says, pushing back the covers. “You sure you don’t want to come?”

Sam lays on his side, the sheet pulled up to his waist. He shakes his head. “Your mom came up to spend time with you,” he says. “I’ll see her at dinner tonight.”

Jess opens the closet, pulls out a blue dress. “AKA, you forgot to buy me a gift and need to run out this morning to buy me one last minute,” she teases.

Sam smiles and sits up in the bed, the sheet falling to his waist. He catches her wrist when she comes to the side of the bed and pulls her close so that he can kiss her. His lips are warm, just slightly sour, but it isn’t the same as it is most mornings. Jess can tell from the change in the rhythm of his kisses that his mind is just somewhere else. “See you later,” he says, lounging back against the pillows.

Distraction is contagious, and Jess finds herself worrying about him as she sits across from her mother, eating a western omelette and drinking cupfuls of free coffee. She loves Sam, loves his sweetness, and that love is included with the knowledge that Sam isn’t okay. He’s never been okay. He had a hard childhood and he has a bad relationship with his family. So Jess can’t help but worry about him when he gets like this. It doesn’t matter if it’s her birthday. If something is bothering Sam, she needs to take care of it.

She finds him still in bed, still staring out the window, and that just proves it. He doesn’t even notice when Jess comes in the room, and this is crazy coming from a boy who jumps when a pencil is dropped in a silent exam room. Jess drops her purse and climbs on to the bed, her dress hitching up her thighs as she straddles Sam’s waist. “That’s a long day dream,” she teases, glancing at the clock. “Two and a half hours? Must be a good one.”

Sam puts his hands on her waist and smiles. “How was breakfast?” he asks quietly.

“Nuh-uh,” she says, leaning down so her arms are bracketing his head. She glares at him stubbornly. “We’re not talking about breakfast or anything else, and I’m not moving until you tell me what’s wrong.”

It’s very rare that Jess sees Sam’s eyes go hard, but it happens. “Jess,” he says.

“Sam,” she says, in the same tone. “I’ll sit here all day. You know I will. If you throw me off, I’ll just keep trying to sit on you, even when we’re in public. Do you think they’ll keep giving us free upgrades at Java Jump if they see me—”

Sam’s smile is exasperated but affectionate as he covers her mouth with his hand. “Shut up,” he tells her.

She kisses his palm. “Please tell me,” she begs him, leaning up to kiss his forehead. “I know you’re upset. And I want you to be happy. It’s my birthday.”

She feels Sam swallow, feels him sigh out against her chin. “It’s...” he starts, and has to pause, and muster up the ability to start again. “It’s Dean’s birthday. Too.”

Jess sits up again, blinking. “Dean,” she repeats. “Your brother?”

“Yes,” Sam says, eyes on the ceiling behind her. “He’s turning twenty-four.”

Of all the things Jess had suspected, even that it might be about his family, she hadn’t expected something quite like this. What an awful coincidence. “You never told me,” she said softly.

He shrugged. “It’s not important,” he lies, equally as soft.

“Like hell it isn’t!” she says loudly, rolling off of him. She lays against his side instead, arm around his waist. “No wonder you’re sad, baby. You haven’t talked to him on his birthday in years, have you?”

Sam blows out air through parted lips. Jess can see guilt bubbling up on his face like boiling paint. “It just...” he whispers finally. “It just...I know that he’s alone. Dad never remembers dates. I mean, I know he’s probably planning to go out and get laid, and Dean has never needed much more than that. It’s just. He.”

Jess leans in, kissing under Sam’s chin. “You want to be there,” she answers for him.

Sam closes his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but Jess knows that it’s true. Sam’s silences always mean more than the words that he says, the lies that he tells her and himself.

“Why don’t you call him?” she prods gently. “Maybe he’s nearby. Maybe he’s hoping he’ll get to see you.”

Sam’s lips twist down, miserable. “I doubt it,” he mutters. “It takes Dean longer than three years to forgive being walked out on.”

Jess doesn’t know. She doesn’t know Dean. She only knows what Sam tells her about his family, and those moments are extremely rare, usually involving alcohol or an ultimatum. She knows that their Dad has business that takes him away a lot, a job that has always taken him away. Sam has always said that what frustrated him the most about Dean was that he was never angry at their Dad for that. How could Dean forgive their Dad so easily for being gone all the time but not forgive Sam? Jess just thinks there must be some kind of miscommunication, here. Probably along the lines of boys being stubborn and stupid and not calling each other even though they both want to.

The thing is, Jess can’t fix that. There’s too much there, too much she doesn’t know, too much that goes back way too far, and not enough that Sam will say. But now that she knows what’s on Sam’s mind, she thinks she knows at least how she can make him feel better.

“Is that what you were day dreaming about?” she murmurs, brushing her lips along his jaw. “Going to see him?”

Sam doesn’t say anything. His eyes close. The guilt takes on a different colour and Jess knows she’s hit the mark.

“It is, isn’t it?” she murmurs. “You were imagining what you’d do for him for his birthday, huh?”

Jess slides her hands down over his firm stomach, down over the waistband of his boxers. She squeezes his dick gently. “What would you do for him?” she whispers. “Would it start out something like this?”

Sam’s jaw clicks as it falls open. A surprised groan gets caught in his chest. “Jess,” he whispers, reaching for her hand.

Jess keeps it there. She rubs him gently with her palm until Sam’s fingers go loose, until he stops fighting it. “It’s okay,” she whispers, kissing his jaw again. “It’s just me. No one has to know.”

This thing with Sam and Dean is not something that Sam told her voluntarily. It didn’t take much to figure it out, though. Not with how hard Sam gets in his sleep, how often he whispers his brother’s name. Maybe it was all part of being a liberal college student, but it has never bothered Jess. Maybe it’s because she has no siblings of her own, but she just doesn’t see the big deal. It’s hot, even. And on days like this, Jess likes that she knows. Likes that she can make Sam just a little less lonely.

Sam is getting hard beneath her hand, and Jess makes a fist around him, starting to jack him through his boxers. “Are you picturing it?” she says. “Are you rubbing him?”

Sam breaths in, sharp through his teeth. “Yes.”

“Does he like it?”

“Yes.”

“What’s he look like?” Jess demanded. “Tell me.”

“God,” Sam moans, bringing his hands up to his face. “He’s...he wears these black boxer briefs. His dick hardly fits in them. He likes getting all spread out when I...when I touch him and...Christ. He flushes, Jess. So easy. All the way down to his toes.”

“He’d like this, wouldn’t he?” she says, drifting her hand up again, and then slipping them into his boxers, bringing him through the slip. “For his birthday? He’d like waking up to this, your hand on him. I bet he’s thinking about it right now. I bet he’s got those black briefs at his ankles.”

“Jess,” Sam says, realizing again what they’re doing. “Jess, Christ.”

“What else does he like?” she says, drifting her fingers slowly up his dick, slowly over the head. Teasing for more information. “What else would you do to him? Tell me.”

Sam’s mouth is open but he can’t seem to speak. He pants, his eyes half-open and on Jess, incredulous and turned on and embarrassed and wanting. She still needs to help him get there.

“I have an idea,” she murmurs, leaning in to kiss his neck. She starts to stroke him again. “I bet he’d really like it if you got on your back, and he straddled your face. I bet he’d love your mouth on his balls, wouldn’t he? Can you see it?”

Sam moans again, his eyes falling closed, his head tilting back. His hips started to stutter forward, his eyes moving behind the lids as he pictures it.

“Yeah,” she says. “He’d like it. You’d be such a good little brother on his birthday, wouldn’t you? You’d drive him nuts, sucking on his balls like that. He’d be grinding on your face by the end of it, huh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, God,” Sam groans. “He’d love it.”

“What about his cock?” she whispers, bringing her lips up to his ear. “What’s his cock look like?”

“So thick,” Sam bursts out, arching his hips. “So fucking thick, Jess. And it gets so red and wet. You’d love it. You’d go crazy for it, stuffing it up inside you.”

“Yeah?” Jess breaths. She reaches down with her free hand, pushing up her dress, sliding her hand under her panties and rubbing at her clit. She closes her eyes. “Should I be there for our birthday, too? Would he make me come?”

Sam’s hips are thrusting up into her hand now. “Yes,” he groans. “If you rode him, you’d come so hard. He fucks so good, Jess. You wouldn’t believe it.”

Jess moans quietly against the warm, sweaty skin of Sam’s neck. She rubs herself a little harder. “What about you?” she says. “What would you be doing while I rode him? Would he be riding you? We could make it work. Can you picture it? Dean sitting backwards on your big cock while I sit on his? Mmm,” she moans again. “I can picture it, Sam. Dean would like it so much, being trapped between us like that.”

“He would,” Sam chants. “He would, he would. He pretends not to like being fucked but once I get balls deep he just fucking loses it.”

“We’d make it so good, Sam,” Jess says, getting up on her elbow so she can lean over and kiss him. Her palm is soaked with pre-come and her panties cling to her uncomfortably. “We’d make it so good. He wouldn’t feel alone on his birthday. He’d clench on you so hard and he’d fill me up when he came and he’d feel so good, so happy.”

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna come,” Sam says, arching his back. “Jess, Jess. Dean, he—”

“You love him, don’t you?” Jess whispers, pulling out of the kiss to look down at his face. “You love him so much.”

Sam’s mouth wrenches wide, his eyes squeezing shut as he spills over Jess’ hand. He pumps and pumps, his back twisting. “Yes yes yes,” he moans. “Yes, God, I love him, I love him.”

Jess strokes him through it, watching him come, watching him come down from it. She’s never seen someone get off from being in love alone, from just the idea of making that person happy, and it’s not something that she wants to miss. It should make her jealous but it’s hard to be jealous of something that could never even apply to her. Her clit is swollen and aching but she knows it can wait. She smiles when Sam opens his eyes, hazel and dazed. “Baby,” she whispers. “You need to go to him.”

Sam opens his mouth, breathing hard but trying to speak. “I can’t—” he pants. “It’s your—”

She smiles as she touches his cheek. “If you love me,” she says. “You’ll go. I want you to see him. It’s all I want for my birthday.”

Sam closes his eyes again. He breathes quietly for awhile. She can see the struggle in his face, that constant struggle between duty and want. He’s silent when he finally gets up, pulls on jeans, packs a bag. Jess smiles at him when he leans over her to kiss him goodbye.

“Make it good, baby,” she murmurs to him as he shuts the door.

Jess leans back against the pillows when he’s gone. She pulls her dress over her head and tugs her panties down. She’s never met Dean, has never seen a picture and doesn’t know what he looks like, but she imagines his dick like Sam talked about, stuffs herself with her fingers and pictures Sam’s mouth around it.

Maybe she does know what it’s like to get off on loving someone. She can’t think of anything hotter than picturing Sam having what he really needs.

***

Sam gets a gun shoved under his chin when he walks into Dean’s motel room. It isn’t that hard to figure out. Dean has a thing for San Francisco and despite everything that Sam has talked himself into about Dean hating him, Sam knows Dean would choose California as the state to spend his birthday in. He stops at a gas station and asks for a map. He drives by every motel in Stanford and Pala Alto until he finds the Impala. It takes him hours, but the look on Dean’s face when he realises the intruder is Sam is so worth it.

“Dude,” Dean says, lowering the gun and stepping back. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Sam drops the bag on the floor beside the door. “It’s your birthday,” he says, like Sam hadn’t missed the other two.

“Right,” Dean says, and Sam watches the smirk come into place, the age old self defence. “You better have brought me a cupcake, because—”

Sam takes Dean by the shoulders and manhandles him back on to the couch. They knock over a couple of finished beers as they fall back. Sam pins Dean against the cushions with his hands and his hips. He kisses him hard, rocks his hips until Dean is just as flushed as Sam had pictured it that morning. He’s looking up at Sam with the self-defence gone, replaced with honest disbelief that Sam is really here. “Shut up,” Sam says finally, and reaches down to rub Dean through his jeans. “And take your present like a man.”

Day dreaming is never as good as the real thing.


End file.
